Great was the astonishment and delight of Clara and her sister when he announced to them his intention of paying a visit to the castle of Alcantra. It was there that Magdalena first saw the light, and it was there that her mother closed her eyes upon the world, leaving her husband almost distracted; he immediately removed with his little children from the scene of this great affliction. It was soon after this sad event that the old and faithful mayordomo died; he had long been intrusted with the entire control of the estate, and was greatly beloved by his fellow-servants and by the peasantry. The Conde gave orders that the sub-steward, who had lately come into his service, and who was acquainted with the duties of the office, should take his vacant place; his feelings were at that time too much engrossed with his recent loss to institute the proper inquiries into his character and capabilities, and from that time it was that, from some cause, either from misfortune, negligence, or corruption, the entanglement of his affairs was to be dated. The Conde had never before been willing to revisit the castle; and his daughters, with the ardent curiosity of youth, longed to behold the place in which a long line of their ancestors had lived, and eagerly availed themselves of his invitation to accompany him. Their imaginations were fired by all they had heard of the old chateau; and the ruinous condition into which it had fallen of late years, only added fuel to the flame. Clara remembered, or fancied that she remembered, a vast dark building, with huge towers and buttresses; she often tried to picture to her mind the home of her infancy, and to describe it to Magdalena, but these vague remembrances were all that she could recall.
Don Alonzo informed his daughters that the journey was to be commenced on the morrow, without much preparation, or any thing like an ostentatious style of travelling; they themselves would set out in the old family coach, accompanied by his secretary, Señor Roberto, and would be followed by another carriage containing their maid, Fernando, his valet, and Anselmo, a trusty servant. He intended to take with them a supply of comforts indispensable to persons of their condition, as it was probable that the castle might be destitute of them, having so long been without the presence of its master; and this was the more needful, as the castellan had received no intimation of the proposed visit. On the following morning they set out: the castle of Alcantra was situated in the north of Spain, among the wildest mountains, and as they travelled onward, scenery of the most diversified kind passed before their eyes. It was the time of the vintage; and the noble peasants of Castile, in their picturesque costume, came homeward laden with the rich purple grapes, singing the romantic lays of love and chivalry, which have passed down from one generation to another. The ballads of the Cid, and the laments of the Moors, formed the chief burden of their song. Every now and then they could distinguish some well-known passage in "Admiral Guarinos," "Baviaca," or "Don Roderick," or that sad-chorus, which sounds like a Moorish sigh,
"Woe is me, Alhama!"
At sunset, they would see the peasants seated at the doors of their cottages, cheerfully feasting upon bread and fruit, varied by the light wine of the country, preserved in goat-skins, as it is in the East: one leg of the skin forms the mouth of the bottle; and they noticed, what is generally reported by travellers, that even in this time of rejoicing, intoxication was nowhere to be witnessed. Many were the groups they met dancing upon the grass by the light of the moon; and a pleasant thing it was to see the white-haired grandsire looking on, and occasionally joining the merry band of his descendants in innocent sport and festivity, keeping a young heart under the weight of years. Clara and Magdalena were particularly struck by the native grace displayed by the youths and maidens in the bolero, a dance originally introduced by the Moors: with castanets in their hands, accompanying their steps with unpremeditated music, they would alternately advance and retreat, fly and pursue, until, exhausted by the exercise, they would rest upon the rustic bench or the green bank, and while away the hours with song and guitar. What noble-looking men are the peasants of Spain! Every one of them, from the dignity of his deportment, might well pass for a hidalgo in disguise; and the feeling of self-respect is so common, that it has passed into a proverb among the people that they are "as good gentlemen as the king, only not so rich." Proud and independent, and jealous of any encroachment upon their rights, they are yet scrupulously polite to others, and pay marked attention to strangers. While in Italy the foreigner will meet with imposition at every step, the Spaniard disdains to take advantage of his ignorance, and the significant reply, "Señor, I am a Spaniard," is sufficient answer to any suspicion of meanness or duplicity. Their tall, manly forms, wrapped in the ample cloak which the Spaniard wears with unequalled grace, their oval faces, dark complexions, and flashing eyes, make them most interesting features in the landscape. Probably in no country does man, in the humbler walks of life, appear so universally clothed with the majesty suitable to his rank as lord of the creation, as he does in Spain. As they travelled through Castile, the scene was occasionally varied by meeting a band of strolling Gitanas, or Gipsies, whose swarthy hue, slender forms, and wild appearance, clearly pointed out their foreign origin; of course, they were anxious to tell the fortunes of the beautiful Señoritas, and on one occasion their father consented to gratify their curiosity. But he repented of his compliance, when he heard the woman predict to the timid and somewhat superstitious Magdalena, a speedy and imminent danger as about to befall her, and he noticed with concern the changing color with which she heard these hints of peril: but Clara, whose fearless and joyful spirit could not be daunted by such prophecies, soon laughed the roses back again into her sister's cheeks, and made the wrinkled hag retreat, full of rage at her incredulity. They also met some of those immense flocks of sheep, which form such an important item in the national wealth of Spain, and which are led southward early in the autumn, to enjoy the rich pasture grounds of Estremadura and Andalusia.
As they proceeded towards the north, the country became more rugged and mountainous, and changes in the costume of the peasantry showed that they had passed into another province: the black velvet cap of the Castilian, ever worn so as to display to advantage his noble, lofty forehead, was replaced by one of woollen material, of a brilliant red, long, and hanging down behind. The scenery every moment became more grand and sublime, and the young girls, who had spent their lives chiefly in Madrid, were full of delight and admiration. "How can people live in the city," they exclaimed, "when such a free and happy life is before them? How can they prefer brick and stone to the everlasting hills, the soft green turf, and the majestic forests? Here, you can really behold the sky, with its beautiful fleecy clouds, ever changing in shape and hue, and you can see the starry universe spread out before you; there, you can perhaps catch a glimpse of a few stars, and a small piece of a cloud, but the rest is hidden by dead walls. In the city, our time is taken up, and our hearts are frozen, by ceremonious visits, stately dinners, and the rules of etiquette; here, in the country, a real, true life could be spent, free from insincerity and busy idleness. Dear father, will you not give up your offices at court, and live henceforth at Alcantra?" Their father smiled at their enthusiasm, and felt himself almost rejuvenated, as he listened to their raptures, flowing fresh from young and ardent hearts; but told them that they had not yet seen their ancestral castle, and that perhaps their expectations might be grievously disappointed; he would wait until they had spent some time there, before he gave them his answer.
As they approached the termination of their journey, the country became yet wilder, and the villages were more thinly scattered; while here and there a wooden cross appeared upon the roadside, with some simple inscription, calculated to inspire terror in proportion to its very simplicity. "Here they killed Iago," or "Here the robbers killed Señor Jose Blanco." They noticed, on their last day of travel, when they had entered into the territory of the Conde, that the roadside crosses became more frequent, and the cottages of the peasantry assumed a look of poverty they certainly did not bear in former times, when the lords of the manor resided upon their estate, and were able to see to the welfare of the people. When they entered the little inn of the village of Alcantra, about four miles from the castle, the garrulous old landlord greeted the Conde most warmly.
"And a good thing it is for the country that your Excellencia has returned once more to his estates. Now we may hope to have a little peace; now the peasants will not be ground down to the dust, as they have been; now some villanous upstarts I know of, will not dare to ride over them rough-shod, and to treat them as if they were beasts of the field. Viva! viva! The illustrious Conde has returned!"
The Count was much affected by the representations of this man, whom he knew to be an honest and worthy fellow, and was full of regret for what he now felt to be criminal negligence on his own part; and promised him that full investigations should take place, and that perfect justice should be done. The innkeeper asked him if his servants were well armed; "For," said he, "the nearness of the castle is no protection to you from robbery. Many travellers have left this inn, in high health and spirits, and with trunks laden with merchandise, but have never arrived at their destinations. The road is, as you well know, rough and precipitous, over-hung by huge rocks and dark forests, and the banditti have taken up their quarters somewhere in this neighborhood, though where it is none can discover. Many murders have been committed here, and many a poor fellow lies buried in unconsecrated ground, Heaven have mercy on their souls! but the murderers have never yet been caught. It is not thought that the band can be a large one, but they are very daring; it is now more safe than usual, for an atrocious murder occurred a few miles from this place within the last week, and a company of soldiers is expected here every moment; they will stay a week, and will try to capture them, but unless the Saints defend us, and all the Martyrs, Heaven only knows what will become of us all."
Don Alonzo assured him that he feared nothing, as including the coachmen they were six well-armed men, upon every one of whom he could entirely depend. "And," said he, smiling, "if matters come to a bad pass, I could count upon my daughter here, my brave Clara, as my seventh soldier; I have taught her to fire a pistol without shrieking, and to hit the mark, too, and with her protection Magdalena and I need fear nothing."
After this conversation, it is not wonderful that all were on the qui vive as they ascended the mountain road leading to the castle of Alcantra. Magdalena started at every sound, and even Clara, fearless as she was, felt relieved when she saw the lofty turrets and extensive battlements she had dimly remembered, spreading out before her, their dark outline relieved against the blue sky. If the approach was romantic and alarming, it was a good preparation to their minds for the castle itself; it was built in the times of feudal power and intestine wars, and its massive walls had well performed their part in the defence of its inmates during many sieges. And yet, strong as it was, and built, as it appeared, for eternity, a portion of this noble structure was going to decay; one wing had been very much battered in the last siege it had sustained, and the cannon-balls had done the work of centuries; but the main building looked very imposing, as if able to resist the lapse of ages, and appeared, from its elevation, to frown down upon intruders, and to scorn the very idea of danger. It was exactly such a place as was calculated to fire the imaginations and to win the hearts of young girls, brought up in a gay metropolis, from the very contrast to all they had ever seen before; there was a romance about its very gloom that was attractive to them. Associated as it was with much historic interest, and with many family traditions, they had ardently longed to behold it, and now that they saw it rise, in its dark grandeur, before them, they acknowledged that their expectations were more than realized.